hearth with a fire, the smoke of which had no other exit from the room than through the door. The supply of upholstery with which the apartment was furnished, consisted of one deal table and two wooden benches; in one corner of the room were two boards, on which were a deer-skin and one blanket-these formed the general's bed. The unhappy exile, whose wretched destiny is here illustrated, is not unknown in England. In 1821 he joined the revolution of Naples, and was one of those who were afterwards sent into banishment. He came to England, remained here for three years, and, tired of an inactive life, he entered the Greek service, and distinguished himself in several actions, particularly at the siege of Athens. The only reward, however, which he received for his services, was the perilous post of governor of the fortress of Vonitza, where, between hunger and malaria, and the Roumeliote faction, it is only surprising that the poor general did not sink long ago. The faction just mentioned had given him repeatedly to understand, that they were determined to dispose of him as soon as they had the opportunity, and one night, by accident, as he was making his rounds, he found one of his sentinels negociating with two of the enemy upon the terms which the former was to take for betraying the fortress. Our author afterwards found out that had the Roumeliotes succeeded, they would have dignified his last hours with a very elegant and classical sort of execution, for they intended to have boiled him to death in oil.

Leaving Vonitza, the travellers proceeded over Acarnania, paying a visit to the site of the renowned Missalonghi. After shedding a few tears at the tomb of the brave Marco Botzari, they went to Patras. From this place they were kindly sent on to Lepanto, by Prince Wrede, a Bavarian nobleman in the service of Greece, who also gave them letters to Gen. Giavella, who resided not far from that town. The latter was at the time generalissimo of Western Greece, under the Capodistrian government. Our author speaks of him in the following terms:

Giavella is one of the most interesting characters which have been elicited by the excitement of the revolution. A Suliote by birth, and son to the brave hero and heroine who so long defended their mountain strongholds against the celebrated Albanese tyrant, he inherits the indomitable spirit and uncalculating bravery of his country and his parents. He is now about forty years of age, low in stature, but remarkably well made; his black hair flows down upon his shoulders after the manner of his tribe, and his dark eye and handsome features have an habitual expression of gaiety and liveliness which is very pleasing, mingled with a something which bespeaks great occasional excitability. Brave to excess, noble, kind-hearted, and indefatigable, he has always been one of the most influential and important leaders in the Greek cause, and is a general favourite with his countrymen. Even those most opposed to him in politics, I have heard speak of him with tenderness and respect. He has distinguished himself on many occasions, especially at the battle near

Navarino, where he and Constantine Botzari fought side by side, long after their followers had been driven from the field by the superior tactics of the Egyptians. But it is his noble defence of Missalonghi which has brought him the most enduring fame. We heard many of the particulars from his own lips. After sustaining a ten months' siege, and seeing all their hopes of relief destroyed one by one, the garrison, after suffering terribly from famine, came to the heroic resolution of cutting their way through the Turkish army. Favoured by a dark night, they divided into three detachments, and left the ruined walls they had so long and so gallantly defended. The first division, with Giavella at its head, forced its way with little loss; the second also escaped, though it suffered dreadfully in the struggle; but the third, encumbered with the women and children, was forced back into the town, and the Turks entering it along with them, they were all cut to pieces; and when I visited the place, their whitened skulls were lying in a heap near the ramparts where they fell.

After half an hour's conversation with Giavella, chiefly on European politics and the expected arrival of the young king, we made known our object in visiting him, and requested leave to proceed to Lepanto, promising at the same time to return before nightfall.—pp. 31—53.

After spending a few days at Athens, where his classic mind pored over the wonders of the Propylæum, the Parthenon, the Erectheum, the Tower of the Winds, the Lantern of Demosthenes, and the colossal Temple of Jupiter Olympus, the author and his companion made the tour of Attica. This province, in its physical and moral condition, presented no exception to the general wretchedness which he had experienced in every other part of Greece that he had visited.

Having returned to Athens, the author sailed across the Gulf of Salamis, and landed at a village called Pidavro. This place is situated on the north coast of that province of the Morea, which was in ancient times called Argolis. Here, whilst the party were eating their breakfast, and in expectation of obtaining horses which would convey their baggage to Nauplia, whither they intended to go, a messenger, in breathless haste, rushed into their presence, announcing that the Albanese were coming to pillage the place. The Albanese are a sort of irregular soldiers, subsisting entirely on plunder. All Greece is indeed overrun by similar bands. The body which made the irruption now spoken of is described by the author, who says, that a more squalid, ferocious, ruffian-looking set of men he never beheld. "They were," he continues, "filthy in the extreme; their dress was torn and ragged, and their countenances denoted long-endured famine and hardships. They all carried two enormous pistols and a yataghan in their belts and a long gun over their shoulders. They saw at once that they had no resistance to encounter, so set about their errand vigorously, seizing every thing in

the way of food or ammunition that they could lay their hands on. The people, subdued to the cowardice of silent indignation, stood quietly by, watching the seizure of their stores, without venturing even a remonstrance. I was equally disgusted with the dastardly endurance of the one party, and the brutal oppression of the other. The brigands, after rifling every house, except the one in which we had established ourselves, began to feast upon their spoil. They were soon intoxicated, and their brutality then became unbridled. Their conduct was that of utter barbarians. They insulted all the women who had been foolish enough to remain in the village, and the men did not dare to interfere. I could bear the scene no longer, and strolled away towards one of the remoter houses, when a loud scream arrested my attention, and a young woman, with a babe in her arms, rushed out of the door, pursued by one of the Albanese. My indignation had before wanted but little to make it overflow; so, looking this way and that way, like Moses when he slew the Egyptian, I rushed after the inebriated ruffian, and brought him to the ground by a blow with the butt end of my carbine. He fell with great violence, and lay for some minutes insensible. I took his pistols and yataghan, and threw them into a marsh close by, and then went up to the poor woman, who was terrified to death, and led her to a thicket of thorn trees, where she was not likely to be discovered. Here we remained till nightfall, when we ventured from our hiding place, and found that the Albanese had retired, and were probably gone to repeat the same scene at some other village. The next morning we procured three horses for our baggage, and proceeded to Nauplia on foot, passing two other bands of brigands on our way, with one of whom we narrowly escaped a fatal quarrel. These blood-hounds swarm in every part of Greece, and till they are utterly extirpated, there will be neither security nor peace. It is to be hoped that this will be one of the first measures of the new government."

The visit of our author to Maina gives rise to a highly interesting and affecting narrative. Maina is a promontory situated at the southern extremity of the Morea. The inhabitants of this place boast of their descent from the ancient Spartans, and have been always anxious to act up to the character of that celebrated people. They never submitted to the Turkish yoke; and by retiring to their fastnesses, their rocks and caves, defied the power of the sultan from generation to generation. At last they obtained a sort of tacit independence, the terms of which were, that no Turk should reside amongst them-that they should pay a moderate tribute, and that the individual to govern them should be a chieftain of their own, to be appointed, however, by the Porte, or by the Capitan Pacha. Such was the settlement of their political relation with the rest of the world; and, as to their employment, commerce, &c. the author informs us that the habits of pillage by land, and piracy by sea, were the national customs which they regarded as being too

sacred to give up. The heroism of the Mainotes made all honest navigation within their beat a somewhat daring enterprise, and there was scarcely a mariner in the Mediterranean who was not oppressed by the contributions enforced by these desperate Mainotes. But then, in justice to them, let it be told, that they were plunderers of the good old school, real good hearted villains, who took your money and your property with the most conciliating politeness. At present the author represents them to be very hospitable and very kind, opening their doors to receive the passing guest, and irreproachable in their social lives. In their dealings with each other they are fair and honourable, says our author. Who has ever heard of any thing else but honour amongst thieves? Their friendship, too, is warm and abiding; but their passions are impetuous and unruly, and, when once roused, are not to be subdued by either reason or compassion, as the following anecdote will show:

Two Mainotes, who had long shared in common the produce of their plunderings, chanced at length to quarrel about the division of the booty of a Venetian brig. Burning with resentment, and eager for vengeance, the one, Theodore, seized on the wife of his companion, Anapleotti, and carried her on board a Maltese corsair stationed in the bay, for the purpose of selling her, to make up his defective share in the plunder. The Greek asked too high a price, and the Maltese refused the purchase, having, as he said, just procured another at a much cheaper rate, whom, at Theodore's request, he produced. She was brought forward, and, to the confusion of the Mainote, proved to be his own wife; his accomplice having anticipated his stratagem, and disposed of his spouse two hours before. He, nevertheless, concealed his rage, gave Anapleotti's wife for the proffered price of the Maltese, and returned on shore; where he met his quondam ally, apprised of his loss, and thirsting for vengeance. The worthy friends were not long, however, in coming to an understanding. Without arousing suspicion, they went together on board the Maltese corsair, and without much ceremony forced him to restore the wives of both. This complied with, and satisfied with their mutual revenge, which had proved a mutual gain, the confederates again returned; and, as firmly united as ever, continued in common their former desperate calling.-pp. 88, 89.

The melancholy history to which we have alluded, as connected with Maina, is that of the family of Mavromichaelis. This man was the head of a large and influential race, and was governor of Maina. He raised the popular standard as soon as the revolution broke out, and the zeal with which he and his relations supported the cause of the people, may be judged of when we state, that nine of his near kindred, sons, brothers, and cousins, perished in the struggle. The country remembered the services of the family, and, when Capodistrias was made president, and a senate was called, old Mavromichaelis and his son George were elected members. The former and Capodistrias were by no means good friends, for Mavromichaelis did not think that he was treated with the consideration which

he deserved, and Capodistrias, unfortunately for himself, was led to indulge the ambition of pulling down the feudal power of the country, and for this purpose sought occasions of humiliating all those who were characterized by a spirit of independence. Such being the state of the relation between the two parties, it happened that old Mavromichaelis, being at Nauplia during the sitting of the senate, wished to visit his property in Maina; and as it was one of the regulations of the Greek constitution that no senator should absent himself from the seat of government without the president's permission, he accordingly demanded leave to go. The application was refused; the old Mainote became indignant, and took the road without leave; he was arrested, and thrown into a dungeon in the lofty fortress of Palamede, which commands the town. Here the old man was immured for several months, during which petitions and remonstrances showered in on all sides to the president, imploring him to release Mavromichaelis; but his wicked genius prevailed, and young George, the son of the old man, himself a senator, in a desperate moment assassinated Capodistrias. George was one of the finest and most promising youths that Greece could boast of: he was condemned to be shot, and underwent the execution with the noblest fortitude. The wretched father was afterwards released, and sent back in a Russian brig. Our author accompanied the old man back, and gives a most heart-rending picture of his sorrow for the loss of his son. In a grove not far from his castle, Mavromichaelis has erected a small and simple tomb-stone to the memory of his faithful son. Near this grove the desolate father wanders the live long day, like a ghost lingering round the scene of its departed pleasures.

Greece, on the death of Capodistrias, was a scene of increased confusion. The brother of the assassinated chief was appointed president by one faction, which was soon overwhelmed by another, called the Roumeliotes. The second Capodistrias vacated, and of the chiefs who supported him, and who were obliged likewise to retire from the government, Colocotroni was amongst the most eminent. When our author, in May, 1832, proceeded to the Morea, he found that Colocotroni had returned to his home in that quarter, and he resolved to visit even the very den of this celebrated highwayman.

It was on a lovely evening that, after having left Tripolitza, and having entered the valley of Megalopolis, they beheld its western extremity, closed up by the craggy rock of Cariténa, on whose summit stands the castle of Colocotroni. The following is an account of the reception of the party:

The house in which Colocotroni lived was situated a little lower than the fort. It was new, small, and roughly built, but somewhat more substantial than the generality of Greek houses. It was situated on the very edge of a precipice more than 50 feet in height; and on a projecting platform of rock beside it, the old klepht was seated to receive us. He rose as we approached,